


Shake

by TheAwkwardPinCushion



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Episode 60 Spoilers, F/M, o boy, this was fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardPinCushion/pseuds/TheAwkwardPinCushion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hands shake. They shake as he talks, tapping silent rhythms into his thigh or into the table he rests them on. They shake as he gestures wildly talking about the new ideas he has. They shake when he doesn’t think anyone sees just how tired he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to "You" by Keaton Henson, which gives me an ungodly amount of Perc'ahlia feelings

His hands shake. They shake as he talks, tapping silent rhythms into his thigh or into the table he rests them on. They shake as he gestures wildly talking about the new ideas he has. They shake when he doesn’t think anyone sees just how  _ tired  _ he is.

Her hands are unnaturally still. The precision was self taught over years of self loathing and the need to be  _ something.  _ She doesn’t let them see the quiver in her fingertips as she looks at the gates. She doesn’t let them see the way she quakes like a raging storm in her leather boots, newly polished and polished and polished and polished and-

He feels the way they shake as he takes her shaky hand in his. She feels the steadiness in his stride, the straightness of his spine. He leads her, comforts her, makes her feel like she isn’t the only one with the eye of the vility on her.

Her father is an ass. Her stepmother is doing her best. Her sister is a godsend. He lets go of her hand so she can hold the young girl; she’ll do more for her than he could in that moment. But he stays near, ever near and  _ there  _ and comforting.

He works the man like putty in his hands. The toxic air of nobility clouds one’s lungs and poisons their mind, the shock of his daughter being a baroness almost ignites it and makes his head explode. The shock of her being a baroness almost brings her to tears.

She asks if it's real when they leave. She asks if he would just give that to her. He would give her the sun and the stars if she asked for them. He would give her the moon and the constellations if he could only reach them. He just tells her that someone needed to fill the position - it was the least he could do. No one could do it like her.

Her lip quivers like his fingertips do when she kisses his cheek. A fleeting thing, the touch too brief for his preference. 

She hasn't a house or luxuries or the sky like she deserves. This is the least his noble intentions can do. She deserves so much and he can give so little. He tries, though, and he knows she's grateful. She deserves so much. She deserves so much  _ more. _

**Author's Note:**

> I love 2 suffer
> 
> I might add to this later, but it's 5 am and I need to sleep sometime because it's been three days. Save me


End file.
